


your eyes (tells no lies)

by koifishthatwrites



Series: to fix what's broken [6]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depressed Oma Kokichi, Depression, Eventual Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Fluff and Angst, Gay Oma Kokichi, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Killing Game Was A Virtual Reality Simulation (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Oma Kokichi Is a Little Shit, Oma Kokichi Needs a Hug, Oma Kokichi-centric, Out of Character Oma Kokichi, POV Oma Kokichi, References to Depression, Sad, Sad Oma Kokichi, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, THESE DUMB BITCHES FINALLY GOT TOGETHER, Well not yet - Freeform, but theyll get there ;), hoh boy thats a lotta reelationship tags, you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koifishthatwrites/pseuds/koifishthatwrites
Summary: Silence falls like a dark cloud hovering over their heads. Neither do anything to stop it, one waiting for the other and the other simply shell shocked.Until it breaks.“Are… are you really telling the truth?”Shuichi takes one of his hands, an action that feels vaguely familiar, and kisses it gently all while never losing his stare, “Every bit of it.”In those gold eyes, he saw something he wanted to believe in.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro & Oma Kokichi, Amami Rantaro/Shinguji Korekiyo, Harukawa Maki & Oma Kokichi, Momota Kaito & Oma Kokichi, Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi & Shinguji Korekiyo & Yonaga Angie, Oma Kokichi & Yonaga Angie, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: to fix what's broken [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053170
Comments: 14
Kudos: 174





	your eyes (tells no lies)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: check! the! tags!
> 
> how the heccity hecc this got to 5000+ words i have no idea
> 
> hsghsgsghsgasjdhjsa i swear these titles get lamer everytime i update-
> 
> also guess who realized they have literally no mainstream media and got a tumblr?? yep that's right its me!
> 
> https://koifish-that-writes.tumblr.com/
> 
> again, I really hope I didn't accidentally disrespect any one with my piss poor writing

Dawn comes and he doesn’t move.

Kayama-san asks him how he got there and to get up. He doesn’t answer nor move.

She sighs and picks him up more gently than expected, like he was precious, like he was worth it.

(Even with his mind full of static and his ears bleeding pink, he scoffs at the thought.

_What a lie._ )

Kayama-san is talking but he can’t hear anything.

She gives up eventually and the all too familiar disappointed look she sends his way is almost nostalgic.

* * *

Rantarou tries to get him to talk but it fails, just like everything else in his life.

(Later, even though the others are talking and laughing with each other, he feels a strange tension in the room.

He can’t help but think it’s his fault.)

* * *

Not for the first time, Angie-chan comes by.

Not for the first time, she forces him to help her paint a portrait of someone he doesn’t know. (Not that he’d say no if she asked.)

Not for the first time, she claims that Atua wanted her to visit him.

Not for the first time, he knows she is lying.

(As useless as he may be, he can still detect his own kind.)

* * *

Days pass and the same question repeats everyday, 

_‘Why am I scared?’_

Rantarou playfully insulting his nails as he repaints them the same color as his hair, Miu barging in and claiming her room couldn’t fit any more of the ‘amazing inventions made by the ultimate sexy genius girl’ when they both know she was just lonely, Gonta’s grin filled with the happiness he deserves as he words vomits about some bug he saw outside, Shumai’s mesmerizing gold eyes zeroing in on whatever puzzle he’s solving and the way his face lights up with pride and happiness when he gets it right, Angie-chan’s laughter as he frantically tries to hide a doodle of Shumai, his ~~friends~~ ex-classmates smiling and happy and not stressed out because of the game that will haunt them for the rest of their days— All the memories come to mind one by one and he has the answer to his question.

He doesn’t want to leave them behind, to leave the few but so, so precious memories they’ve made behind.

(It’s selfish and undeserving, but then again, the fact that he’s still breathing is selfish and undeserving.)

* * *

Unfortunately, things don’t get better immediately, like in movies.

It’s a slow process and surprisingly, he somewhat enjoys the slug-like steps.

And soon, he’s smiling and laughing with them once again and everything is okay.

* * *

All it takes is an off-hand quip from Harukawa-chan, which she _definitely_ did on purpose for annoying her as he did in the game, about him still being in a wheelchair for it to evolve into everyone circle around him like some fucking cult in the arcade room which _appearently_ existed and cheering him to stand.

“Fuck you Harukawa-chan!” He screams as his legs tremble like a newborn fawn on ice, an expression akin to a mixture of frustration and desperation.

Someone, he doesn’t pay enough attention to who, quips that Kaito would definitely love to, which _would've_ been fucking hilarious if he wasn’t in this Atua-damned situation.

_‘... Alright, definitely spending too much time with Angie-chan.’_

But now is decidedly not the best time to contemplate his poor life decisions. He can do that at the usual three am sobbing fest.

“I swear to fuck if you all let me fall, I will harvest your fucking kneecaps and sells them to kids like candy!” He screams again, this time getting an odd mixture of mildly amused and mildly terrified of looks.

As reclutently as a child being bribed with candy to eat their medicine, he lets go of the wheelchair—

— and promptly falls on his face.

“Enjoy your fucking kneecaps and kidneys while you still have them, shitroosters.”

Rantarou just chuckles and helps him up.

“C’mon man, how hard can it be to just walk?” The other purple bitch asks.

Kokichi looks him dead in the eye.

“I’m Kokichi 19 and I never learned how to fucking walk.”

The class, collectively, loses their shit.

(By the end of it, he is laughing and standing on his own two legs, which, after nearly a year of not doing, feels fucking weird.

But the small warmth is blossoming into a beautiful flower and for the first time, he doesn't feel as if he doesn’t deserve it.)

* * *

He is sitting on the window sill, this time with no motive of jumping, and taking in the surroundings of their glorified prison when it happens.

He hears knock on his door and for some reason, it feels different than usual.

Not many people visit, mostly because they’re either lounging in the arcade or the cafeteria.

And this didn’t sound like any of their knocks.

Either way, he chirps, “Door opens!”

The door opens and he almost falls out of the window.

(Ha, how ironic would it be if fell and died _now_ , when he doesn’t want to.)

There stood out in the hallway the last person he expected to visit him.

Korekiyo.

“Uh.” He says intelligently.

“May I come in?” 

“Uh um sure.”

_‘Okay, what kind of fever dream am I having.’_

The room is completely silent. Somehow, it doesn’t feel neither heavy nor light.

“I need your help.” It’s Korekiyo who says it and Kokichi is pretty sure he has a mini heart attack right then and there.

“What?! Is someone bothering you?! Is there another ghost possessing you!!? Are you hurt!? Oh god oh fuck are you _dying_ —” Now, Kokichi is _not_ a kind of person that worries about others. (As if he could do that good.)

… Alright, maybe that’s a lie.

Seems like there’s still a bit of his pregame self in himself, despite having almost no memories of it.

Korekiyo blinks, seemingly taken aback by his onslaught of questions. “Nothing like that. I need your help with uhm ‘wooing’ someone.”

Like a switch, he shuts up almost immediately and stares at the perfectly still Korekiyo.

Then, a tiny snort escapes him, until it escalates to full on wheezing laughter.

“H—Holy fu—fuck! Shit d—did y—ou say w—wooing?!” He wheezes, almost crying from laughter. Korekiyo, the person who seems so serious all the time, just asked _him_ for help. To woo someone. What the fuck.

“Yes, that is what I said?” And holy _shit_ the dude actually sounds confused, Kokichi is going to fucking lose it.

Once the utter euphoria fades, he wipes the tiny tears that’d gathered from the laughing-wheezing fit.

“H—Hah... A—are you su—re you w—want the h—help from me and not from Rantarou?”

For some reason, Korekiyo’s ears redden. _Weird_.

“That…. That’s the thing.” He murmurs quietly.

“What?” Kokichi tilts his head, looking very much like a confused cat.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” He sounds irritated, “The one I want to… ‘woo’ _is_ Amami-kun.”

Then, everything clicks.

“Oh,” He says smartly and _wow_ this boring prison stay just got ten times more fun, _“Oh .”_

“ _Oh_ , indeed.” Korekiyo echoes.

(Unknown to him, Korekiyo immediately regrets coming to him for help upon seeing the utterly feral grin on his face.

_‘Well this definitely goes just below not running the fuck away from sister while I could.’_ )

* * *

He asks for a week and _schemes_.

Korekiyo nods and comes by his room everyday to give him the information needed for plan Amaguji, and wow that sounds so dramatic, he loves it.

Unfortunately, they get caught by Angie.

Fortunately, after listening to them, she agrees to keep it quiet from both the hospital staff and their ex-classmates under one condition.

“I want in!”

And so, plan Amaguji goes from two people to three. 

(No one says anything when both Angie and Korekiyo suddenly transfer over to their table, as if they’d been expecting it to happen.

Though Chabashira-chan is a bit more than sore that her best friend won’t sit with her.)

* * *

Step one: 9@42;=\% !6% ;+@\;58@ ;=58 06@# 6342 ;11%\\!3@=

(He takes extra precautions to create a whole ass code so that no one will find out their little plan. Angie and Kork call it being an extra bitch.)

Unfortunately, Korekiyo is somehow worse than Kokichi when it comes to Affection, so they have to teach him.

Double unfortunately, he is going to have to be the one Korekiyo practices shit on because Angie is a fucking bitch.

It goes as well as expected.

“Wha— Kork I can’t breathe that is not how you fucking hug a person—”

“Atua says you fucking suck at this~”

“Oh shit Angie-chan swore the worlds ending—”

“No, no, at least _try_ to keep eye contact.”

“Ow Kork no my fucking hAND—”

“Uhhh eye pretty.”

“Kork, my dude, my bro, my fam, however the fuck is that a pickup line.”

(By the end of the first day of practice, they’re sprawled all over the floor, noticeably ruffled with hair flying in every direction and they all grinning from ear to ear. Though Korekiyo’s couldn’t really be seen due to the surgical mask he wore.

He can feel the flower blossom a bit more and the warmth in his chest increase.)

* * *

It takes nearly a week for Korekiyo, or just ‘Kork’ as they’d taken to calling him, to get a somewhat decent grasp on the Basics Of Affection.

Now for the _actual_ step one of the plan.

Korekiyo does exactly how they taught him. It almost makes him proud to a degree. A look at Angie-chan says she feels the same.

Now, Rantarou _definitely_ notices Korekiyo (albeit amateur level) flirting with him, but he isn’t saying nor doing anything.

And Kokichi swears, if Rantarou lead him on just to let him down later, he will fucking throw hands with the amnesiac, doesn’t matter there’s a literal twenty centimetre difference in height between them or that he still falls over some times, nope.

Thankfully, it never comes to that as Rantarou starts flirting back with equal vigor after a few days.

Another two weeks pass, none of them confess. That’s when Kokichi takes matters into his own hands.

Quietly, he crosses out the previous step two: ~~\@=1~~

Now for the new step two.

He grins in the dark as he schemes.

* * *

It’s almost laughably easy to steal the keys from the staff.

All he had to do was pretend to be hurt, get sent to the doctor and steal it when no one was looking.

For someone who is supposed to look for injuries, the doctor sure sucks at observation.

* * *

He asks Rantarou to come by the shed later at dinner, while Korekiyo is getting some extra rice.

He agrees reluctantly, not knowing he’d be spending the entire night there with a certain someone.

* * *

He sits on the window sill and watches Rantarou exit the building and just as planned, Korekiyo does the same exactly ten minutes later.

He grins in the darkness and drops the signal.

A single crumpled piece of paper falls and from it, the messenger of Atua rises.

He sees her tip toe after their unfairly tall friend and a minute later she returns with a grin just as bright as his own.

Their eyes meet, she throws him a thumbs up and with that, he knows they’ve successfully completed step two point five. 

And as he waits for her to come to his room, he crosses out step two point five.

Step one: ~~9@42;=\% !6% ;+@\;58@ ;=58 06@# 6342 ;11%\\!3@=~~

Step two: ~~\@=1~~

Step two point five: ~~(@\26 !6%42 3= !6% 06%58 !@:%!6%9~~

Step three:\@=1%00

Angie just bursts into his room, they’re way past the knocking anyway.

The first thing they do is high five and then:

“I hope Kork isn’t too mad at us…”

“Two weeks! And they still haven’t confessed yet! If we didn’t do what we did then they’d be pining after each forever like you and Saihara-chan!”

“Hey!”

* * *

Angie stays the night in his room, she claims she’s too lazy to go back to her own. Once again, Kokichi knows a liar when he sees one.

* * *

His nurse stares at them.

They stare back.

After a minute: “Oh fuck they’re multiplying.”

They snort in perfect unison and enjoy the look of utter annoyance on her face.

* * *

Later, a happy Korekiyo and a slightly flustered Rantarou enter the room, hands linked together and a noticeably large hickey present on Rantarou’s neck.

Angie and him high five with a grin as Rantarou glares weakly at him.

_‘Plan Amaguji is a success!’_

* * *

Rantarou pranks them both the very same day.

“Fuck you Rantarou!” He screeches as he spits out the toothpaste oreos.

Rantarou cackles.

* * *

_‘Can this get any awkward.’_

He and Harukawa-chan just _had_ to go to the same place, at the same time.

Then they see another hospital patient. Which would’ve been completely normal, if not for the fact they were rapidly sucking the jelly out of a…. Donut(?) with a crap ton of foam(??) atop it while surrounded by empty donuts and something orange-like. And sitting on the floor.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck.” Harukawa-chan voices his thoughts.

The human(?) twists their head to look at them dead in the eye and continue to suck out the jelly.

The human(??) doesn't move and neither do they.

For a solid minute, all three people(???) stare at each other as sucking sounds fill the room.

“No one will believe you.” 

With that, jelly-sucker stands up and walks away, leaving a pile of empty donuts and a weird orange liquid on the floor.

“What the fuck.” He says, “Did that actually just happen or do we just _really_ need to go to sleep.”

“... Let’s go with the second one. For both our sanities.”

* * *

By the end of the ordeal, he feels a strange kind of kinship with Harukawa-chan, and judging by the slight smile on her lips as he replays an over exaggerated version of some prank he pulled on Angie-chan a few days ago, she feels the same.

(The warmth spreads and the flower buds ever so slightly.)

* * *

For the entire morning, he can feel someone staring at him. But frustratingly enough, they always turn away before he can locate them.

He was just about to leave the cafeteria to his room when someone grabs his shoulder.

“Wha—Momota-cha—?!” He yelps as the purple idiot spins him around and everything blurs.

Next thing he knows, he is thrown on Momota-chan’s left shoulder with an arm holding him in place.

“You’re my new sidekick from now on!” He declares boldly and as Kokichi punches his back as a form of saying ‘no! that’s wrong!’.

“What! The! Fuck! Momota-chan! Have you gone insane!?” He screams, “And let me down you big oaf!”

“No can do sidekick!”

“Stop calling me your sidekic— Kork? Rantarou? Kork! Rantarou! Help me!”

He goes ignored by the kissing couple.

“Meanies! I help you bone Rantarou and this is the thanks I get, Kork?! Traitors, the lot of you!”

“Shesh stop screeching!”

“No fuck y— Oh my fucking god is that a gym how the hell does this tinyass hospital have a fucking gym—”

* * *

In the end, he is peer-pressured to at least do five push ups.

The problem is, he fucking sucks at push ups. And about every other physical sport that isn’t running away.

So now, he is trying to dissuade them from the topic.

“—And what about Momota-chan?! I’ve never seen him do a push up!”

“Hey excuse you! I’m just… supervising! Yeah supervising!”

“‘Supervising’ my ass!”

The distraction _was_ working, until Harukawa-chan ruined. Like she does with everything.

“Could it be…. that you can’t do a push up?”

He freezes. Momota-chan freezes. Shumai, who’d been trying to peace things out between them, freezes. The entire world might as well freezes.

He turns away to at least try and hide his redder than fire face.

“.... Oh my fucking god she’s right isn’t she.” Momota-chan guffaws.

“.... Fuck off.” He doesn’t deny it, already knowing Shumai would call him out on it.

Kaito’s roaring laughter mixed in with Shumai’s badly stifled chuckles could be heard all around the gym.

“W—Well now, Ouma-kun can try right?” Shumai smiles _that_ fucking smile at him and he already knows he is screwed. Hopefully in more ways than one.

“... Fine. But only five!”

* * *

“Th—rEe!” He wheezes, voice cracking mortifyingly.

“You can do it, Ouma-kun!” Shumai, his wonderful, amazing, sweet, mesmerizing, stunning, crush friend cheers him, doing his own set of a hundred push ups so that Kokichi wouldn’t feel alone.

Behind them, Maki could barely stifle her own laughter at his pathetic attempts at a push up. Kaito had to lie down because stomach hurt too much from laughing too much.

“Fo—ur!”

“One more left! You can do it! I believe in you!”

“Fiv—ve!” His arms give out and he face plants to the floor immediately.

“I’m!... ne—ver! doing… that! again!”

“Congrats Ouma-kun! You did it! I'm so proud of you!”

Nevermind, Kokichi is more than willing to do a thousand more push ups if it makes Shumai proud.

“You! H—How.. Is s—someone _this_ b...bad at push up!” Maki gasps.

“I... hate y—you all.”

Momota-chan struggles to stand straight, wheezing.

“Someone carry me back to my room please.” There. He even said please.

Momota-chan perks up, “Shuichi can do it!”

Kokichi stares. “No offense but I don’t think Shumai can ca—”

Suddenly, everything around him blurs and he can only stare into gold eyes that never fail to render his insides into goo.

His head is screaming _‘Red alert red alert red alert red alert he is carrying you he is carrying you bRIDAL STYLE—’_ and he can’t even feel his heart. Though it is no doubt hammering his chest.

Then Shumai smiles at him and _fuck_ his face is definitely on fire.

‘Meep.’

“—ma-kun? Are you okay? You’ve been staring at me for a while.”

“Meep.” He squeaks, voice three octaves higher than usual.

“What?”

“Meeep.”

“Are you… embarrassed to be carried like this?” His face goes redder, proving the other’s point.

“Pfft you _are_ embarrassed.” He laughs quietly, the sound like music to Kokichi’s red ears.

Thankfully, all his brain cells aren’t dead and he manages to hurriedly wrap his arms around Shumai’s shoulder and bury his red face in his shoulders. 

Shumai just chuckles again.

He doesn’t even realize when they arrive at his room, too busy staring at Shumai’s illegally pretty face.

The sound of the door opening is the thing that alerts him.

He can’t help but feel a tad bit sad and miss Shumai unexpectedly muscled arms that could choke him and he would thank him.

He expects for the detective to dump him on the bed and run right out. 

_‘He probably didn’t even want to carry you here. Momota might’ve forced him to do it.’_ The thoughts put a damper on his previously over-the-moon mood since it’s most likely true.

What he doesn’t expect is for his(?) beloved detective to lay him down on the bed gently as if he was the most precious thing to exist.

Nor did he expect for the detective to touch his cheek softly and slowly trail downwards to his chin and tilt it up.

He can _feel_ small sparks of electricity jolt through his limb and leave him with countless goosebumps, a mixture of several kinds of butterflies blooming in his stomach, his beating three times faster than normal.

“You know…” He smiles softly, “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed like this.”

He doesn’t have the time to react before the detective exits the room, quick as lightning.

And for some time, he doesn’t move. Sitting still in the position Shuichi left him in.

Then he grabs a pillow and _screams_.

_“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHAAASASDASDJASKBKJDCBHSXSBHJDBSDBDADS”_ Is the muffled scream.

He continues to scream until he hears the door open to see a slightly confused Rantarou.

“Is something wrong?”

_“Shumai.”_

“Ah.”

Rantarou lets him scream until his throat is hoarse.

* * *

Shumai doesn’t look him in the eye at dinner. Not even once.

He’d be worried if not for the note that read to come to the roof after dinner. Now he’s straight up scared.

‘What if he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore? Oh fuuuuck what if he noticed my big fat crush on him and hates me for it?!’

He proceeds to panic about the millions of negative possibilities for the rest of dinner. Because of this, he completely misses the way about half the ex-class can’t stop grinning the way he and Angie did when plan Amaguji was proved to be a success.

* * *

Slowly, he opens the door to the rooftop where he tried to end it all.

Of course, it’s empty. He did come ten minutes earlier than he was told to.

He stares at the ever-welcoming darkness that threatens to engulf his tiny frame. He feels the same strange calmness.

The wind caresses his body lightly, like a mother to her child. Not that he’d know anything about mothers. Virtual mother got burned to death by virtual father because of cheating with some other virtual loser and real parents didn’t even bother visiting him. He doubts they’re alive either.

“... Wow, my life sucks.”

He looks around, in the haze of guilt and regret mixed with an unhealthy amount of self hatred, he never really got to _look_ at the rooftop.

Suddenly, he’s hit with an _urge_.

Softly, he hums and steps towards the same edge he’d jumped from so long ago.

_Another step._

_Another step._

_Another step._

_Another step._

_Another step._

_Another step._

Ah, he’s reached the edge.

As expected, there’s nothing but the almost comforting darkness.

As if this were some sort of replay, he raises his hand and stares.

Still no mark. Still a limb too pale. But maybe he can change that.

He takes a deep breath and falls.

His legs dangling off the edge dangerously. He smiles, bitter as an ocean’s water.

“Still can’t do it, huh?”

It almost feels as if the words echo. Maybe it’s his brains playing tricks on him, maybe it's not.

He feels ghostly hands gripping his shoulders in a feather-like grip. It’s dead, cold and he hates it.

He knows who they belong to, of course. How could he not, when the same hands tighten ever so slightly with each whisper?

The ghostly hands roam, as they always do

They find his throat, as they always do.

They whisper those words with the same surety, as they always do.

_“_ **_You’re alone and you always will be._ ** _”_

The hands around his throat tighten.

And he smiles, as he always does.

_“_ **_Don’t worry, I'll help you~_ ** _”_ They coo into his ears. He wonders when the sweet voice of his(?) beloved detective got so distorted.

The answer doesn’t come.

He doesn’t actually feel himself get up, almost as if he were but a marionette on strings.

And for a marionette that’s become useless, the strings snap and it is discarded.

Once again, the world stops and so does his breathing.

He can feel fear shoot like the poisoned arrow and another regret adds to the pile that grows everyday.

Fear and adrenaline mix together to create a feeling somehow worse than the one he felt as the hydraulic press came down to squeeze the life out of him.

_‘I’m scared,’_ His expression twists into one of utter fear, the world around him still frozen, _‘I’m scared I’m scared I’mscaredI’mscaredI’mscaredIdon’twanttoleavethemIdon’twanttodieIdon'twanttodie—’_

Then everything is back in motion and he doesn’t fall.

Someone grabs his hand and the world blurs. He feels a sudden heat as they hit the ground, like a fever that felt so right.

How strange, he didn’t even realize he’d been cold.

The distorted voice tsks, _“_ **_Fail again? How useless~_ ** _”_

“Wha—What were… you thinking!?!”

_‘Oh, it’s Shumai. Of course.’_ He thinks dully, as he stares into frightened gold eyes and tries to ignore the relief that’d been dropped on him like a warm blanket on a cold winter night.

They’re in an intimate position, with him sitting on the detective lap and muscular arms holding him tightly, as if he could vanish any second.

The hands around his waist are warm, alive and so much like the daylight, he loves it. _~~(he doesn't deserve to—)~~_

If he were any less… like _this_ , then no doubt he’d be a stuttering mess.

He looks away, unable to look at frightened eyes _he'd_ caused.

“I’m sorry.”

Shuichi frowns and uses a hand to tilts Kokichi’s head. 

“Ouma-kun, please, _please_ promise me you won’t do something like that.” He pleads desperately, the _‘again’_ going unsaid but not unheard.

And Kokichi wants to. He wants to reassure the other, that no, he won’t. He wants to wipe off the desperate look off his(?) beloved’s face. 

He can’t, for the mask of lies that both protected him and led to his deserved downfall had crumbled to pieces long, long ago.

So once again, he delivers the bitter, painful truth over the sweet, comforting lies that everyone hates.

“I’m sorry.” 

He thinks Shumai is smart. Shumai knows to read between the lines. He had to learn, how else would he have survived the killing game?

Judging by the way Shumai tenses and his arms tighten around Kokichi, he is probably right.

Shumai buries his head on his shoulder, and even in this state, the action makes his heart skip a beat.

Awkwardly, he pats the others back. At least trying to give some sort of comfort.

The silence stretches on, becoming more and more deafening with each minute that passes.

Until it breaks.

“.... You know, I was there.” The detective doesn’t specify, he doesn’t need to.

“I was wondering who screamed.” He lets out a dry giggle, trying to push down the adrenaline and fear that came from almost dying again.

“You smiled.”

“I guess I did.”

“... Ouma-kun, Why?”

The question makes him want to laugh. And cry.

“Haha, Shumai don’t you get it?” He laughs almost hysterically. “I _wanted_ to die!”

Shumai lifts his head off his shoulder to look him in the eye and suddenly it’s only them, all alone in the painfully small room covered in white, holding hands and staring at each other.

He continues anyway, hysterical. “It’s not like anyone will mourn me! No will miss me! The useless liar, the murderer, the _villain_ would be dead! No one would care! I’d rot away in a grave no one would visit! All alone, _just like you said!”_

He sees Shumai flinch, a guilty look crossing his face. A small, sick part of him is gleeful and a bigger part of him is just begging him to stop, as if he deserves it.

The words feel like ash resting on his tongue. He continues anyway.

“I guess detectives always do tell the truth, huh? Because look at me now! You were right!! I’m aaall alone! Just like you said! Even my so-called ‘organization’ isn’t real! Zen, Ayumi, Takeo, Tsutako, Neo, none of them are real! No one is real! I’m all alone, I’ve always been alone!”

With each word, Shumai’s (did he deserve to call him that?) grip on his waist grows tighter.

With each word, the heaviness on his tongue and the pit in his stomach grows.

He continues on anyway.

“Who knows, maybe this hospital isn’t even real! Maybe they’re just preparing us for another killing game! Maybe this time, it’s real. Maybe they’re filming us like before! Hell, they might be filming us now!”

He isn’t looking at Shuichi anymore, purple eyes hazed and unseeing. He’d most likely be moving around, if not for the strong arms wrapped around his waist.

“Why am I even saying this? It’s not like anyone will believe the useless liar! The murdereomph!—”

He can’t complete the sentence, for the lips on his own don’t allow.

Shuichi pulls away within a few seconds, so quickly it could barely classify as a kiss. More like a sweet little peck.

He is gaping and left completely unable to talk, unable to move. The difference between the old Shumai and now still gives him whiplash.

Unfortunately, the changes only make the ever growing string of love around his heart tighten.

“I’m sorry I did that without your consent,” Shumai has the audacity to look guilty about it, as if he wouldn’t sell his soul for another one of those pecks. “But I couldn’t find any other way to shut you up.”

He opens his mouth to say something but Shumai shushes him with a finger.

“Kokichi.” The use of first name, the way it’s said, sends shivers down his spine. “I’ve said this once, and I’ll say it as many times as I have to: you are not a villain.”

His lips curl into a frown as he gazes regretfully into Kokichi’s eyes, “What I said that day was wrong. Very wrong. And I’m sorry.”

“Your organization may not be real, but _we_ are. We’re real and we want to heal from it. We want to have the happy ending that we deserve. That _you_ deserve, just as much as we do.”

Shumai gazes at him in sympathy,“It’s hard, I know. I felt the same when I first woke up. It felt like this was just another game to them, that one day, we’d be back at that damned to hell school and everyone would start killing each other again and—”

His breath catches, fear momentarily flashing in his eyes. But like a hero saving the day, he continues.

“... Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that it can be hard and that’s okay. That’s why we’re here. We help each other through hard days.”

“And why would even _think_ no one would miss you if you died? Amami-kun would be utterly _destroyed,_ he basically calls you his little brother. Gonta would cry for days. Iruma-san would cuss you out while crying for even thinking about leaving her. Korekiyo-san would lose his first friend, Angie would miss her matchmaking buddy and—"

" _I’d_ miss you. Much, much more than you a friend should.” He finishes with a slight blush on his cheeks, as if he hadn’t just debunked everything Kokichi thought was right.

Kokichi stares.

Shuichi stares back, now able to hold eye contact for more than a few seconds.

Silence falls like a dark cloud hovering over their heads. Neither do anything to stop it, one waiting for the other and the other simply shell shocked.

Until it breaks.

“Are… are you really telling the truth?” 

Shuichi takes one of his hands, an action that feels vaguely familiar, and kisses it gently all while never losing his stare, “Every bit of it.”

In those gold eyes that never lie, he saw something he wanted to believe in.

They sit still, taking comfort in each other’s warmth on a dark, cold winter night on the concrete roof.

Shumai’s hands, much larger than his own, don’t let go of his hand and continue to kiss it in almost every angle in a way he’d describe as lovingly if he didn’t already know that Shumai would never love someone like him.

He feels light tingles on his skin from the soft kisses. Those hands were so alive, so warm, like the daylight and he loves it.

Minutes tick by yet neither move nor talk.

“... You know, I really like you.”

Kokichi blinks, heart skipping a beat. “Uh yeah? I thought friends liked each other…”

“No, no, I _like_ like you.”

The purple haired teen’s eyes light up, “You wanna be _best_ friends?! Oh Shumai—”

“Oh my god you oblivious idiot, I love you! As in I want to kiss your stupid lips every two seconds!”

“....” His mouth hangs open, pale cheeks definitely pink as he stares at Shumai, who is also rather flustered.

“Oh.” His voice cracks; he doesn’t give two shits because holy fucking _shit_ Shumai actually likes him back. _“Oh.”_

Unfortunately, it seems that Shumai mistook the absolute euphoria he’s feeling for rejection. “Look, it’s totally cool if you don't like me back—”

It’s Kokichi who initiates the kiss this time, it doesn’t get any less euphoric.

Sparks fly, both metaphorically and literally.

Just like last time though, it doesn’t last for more than a few seconds.

“D—Does… does that answer your question?”

Shumai just nods, looking just as dazed as he did with a pretty little blush on his cheeks.

“S—So uh… does this make us boyfriends?” The mere thought of being _Shumai’s_ boyfriend makes his heart— actually scratch that, he doesn’t even know if his heart is beating anymore or if it’s just fallen out of his chest.

“..... If you want us to be.” He says softly.

Shumai smiles that gentle smile which makes his heart skip a beat. Then again, every one of his smiles makes Kokichi’s heart skip a beat.

“Then I guess we’re dating now.”

He smiles back.

(The flower is almost fully bloomed now and the warmth reaches to his little toes and he loves it so much.

It makes the ghostly whispers vanish, even for just a few seconds.)

They sit on the cold, concrete hard roof for who knows how long and just stare at each other, completely and utterly in love.

Unfortunately, they are outside. In the freezing cold. Without any blankets to shield them from the cold.

“Shouldn’t we be heading inside by now?”

“Do you want to?” The goddamn love of his life hums.

“I mean. I definitely don’t mind sitting on your lap but it’s only gonna get colder.”

Shumai pulls him even closer until he’s basically buried in the taller’s shoulder, “We’ll get up in a few minutes. Though to be honest, I don't think I'm ever letting go.”

Kokichi’s brain proceeds to do the most logical thing and short circuits.

“O-oh.” He flushes slightly, “I’ll hold on to that…”

Slowly with a love sick grin, he leans on his beloved detective’s shoulder and wonders if this was all a dream, if Shumai ran late, if he’d fallen to his death and now was just imagining this as he bleeds out on the ground.

  
_‘If this is a dream,’_ He thinks as his hands curl around Shuichi’s neck, _‘then I want to never wake up.’_

**Author's Note:**

> nOW BEFORE YALL COME MURDER ME WITH PITCHFORKS THIS IS JUST KOKICHIS PARANOID ASS SPEAKING HE ISNT DYING
> 
> note to future me who will definitely come and proofread this further for any mistakes in the morning: whya re you like this?? what possesses you to update at three am???
> 
> and yes i made a whole ass code for this chapter what of it
> 
> heres the translations:
> 
> step one: romance the avocado and show him Affection  
> step two: conf  
> step two point five: lock them in the shed together  
> step three: confess
> 
> blease tell me if i missed any tags
> 
> Edit: Oof I almost forgot to add this in but a special thank you to Princess_Crystal for inspiring the korekiyo X kokichi friendship in this!


End file.
